


Personification

by outofaith



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Artist Grantaire, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Music, Enjolras Has Feelings, Enjolras/Grantaire-centric, Grantaire Is Bad At Feelings, Grantaire is a Mess, It's Courfeyrac's Fault, M/M, Matchmaker Courfeyrac, Photographer Grantaire, alcohol but not much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:14:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21937294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outofaith/pseuds/outofaith
Summary: Grantaire and Enjolras had been doing this "relationship" thing for some time now but they seem to have found themselves at a loss to where to go from there. It takes them an art exhibition and a really drunk Courfeyrac to convince Grantaire to do something about it.So, really, it was all Courfeyrac's fault.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 74





	Personification

**Author's Note:**

> The christmas fic no one asked for. Hope you like it! Happy holidays!

_“There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.”  
― Vincent Van Gogh_

It was cold out, like it always was this time of december. Enjolras was supposed to be at home, writing his thesis but Grantaire had cornered him in the Musain a month ago and looked down at him with big blue eyes that were just little glazed over from the bottle of whiskey he had been nursing every since they had arrived. Everyone else had broken into little groups, just chatting and overall enjoying the calm, for once, atmosphere of the aftermath of a meeting.

Still, Grantaire had cornered him when Enjolras stepped outside to take a call, the artist quickly following him out under the excuse of a smoke. He watched Enjolras talk quietly on the phone, swirls of smoke going up in the air and once the call was finished he had looked at the blonde man cautiously, like they were back where they started and not trying their hands on a very unique relationship; it involved a lot patience but they were finding their rhythm, even if very slowly and with a lot of mercurial fights that always ended up in the bedroom so Enjolras’ frown wouldn’t be so deep once he started to put into words whatever it was that had started their argument.

“A gallery offered to display my work next month” He had said and Enjolras smiled at him in return. “That’s amazing.” They lapsed into silence for a few moments, awkwardly looking at each other when Grantaire had had enough of the silence. “I wanted to invite you – I mean, obviously I’ll invite everyone, but I wanted you to be the first to know.”

Enjolras, for once, was glad for the cold weather if only because he had something other to blame the blush rising on his cheeks than Grantaire’s words. “I’d love to be there.” He bit his lip and quietly added. “And I’m glad you invited me.”

At that, Grantaire’s face split into a teasing grin. “It is impossible to have an art presentation without the masterpiece, surely you know that, Apollo?” Enjolras was glad for the banter, he would never admit it.

I took them to the current moment. Enjolras was standing on the outside of the gallery, all of their friends going in, excited chattering and delighted laughs joining the evening’s noises of the 5th arrondissement. Outside on the sidewalk was a canvas announcing the exposition and the name of it.

**“Modern Olympians: Personification”**

Enjolras smiled to himself, greek mythology was between Grantaire’s greatest interests. He walked inside and was met with the sight of a modern gallery made of clean shapes and angles. Its open plan had different expositions though it all contributed to the total of the collection.

The first one he was met with was a colorful sequence of three pictures of Gavroche, on the first one his eyes were full of mischief, twinkling with the prospect of pulling something or another, the one in the middle held a very similar look in his eyes, but he had a big smile on his face and the night that surrounded him was full of stars, on the last one he was captured running, still with a smile that they all knew meant trouble, Enjolras remembered that day as the day they had a picnic because Gavroche was running away holding three balloons that floated behind him. The pictures were lovely and captured the true nature of the kid, happy and carefree, always up for some trouble.

_“Hermes - God of travelers, cunningness, and messengers”_

As the group chatted and wandered around, Enjolras took his time admiring each piece. The next one was composed by three pictures of Eponine, her tag read _“Artemis - Goddess of the hunt and the moon”_ ; then came Montparnasse as Hades, Enjolras rolled his eyes at the smug look that painted the man’s face as he admired it; Jehan was next, as close to Montparnasse’s as possible and the pictures of the poet holding a bouquet of pressed flowers, surrounded by candles and writing down their verses were enough to know without looking _“Persephone - Goddess of nature, vegetation, and spring”._

He admired each piece carefully and had to smile at the fact that not a single one of them cared for the pronouns of the gods and goddesses. He saw Marius and Cosette admiring theirs with matching adoring expressions, Marius’ face colored a deep red as he realized which one he was associated with 

_“Alke, the spirit of prowess and courage._ Cosette’s face was much softer though and she looked flattered to be compared to what Enjolras thought should be obvious – _“Aphrodite - Goddess of love and beauty.”_

He saw Feuilly and Bahorel smiling broad smiles as they reached their own pictures. Bahorel boxing; staring down a guy with a nazi suastic at a riot and just generally being the essence of _“Kratos – spirit of strenght, might and power.”_

Feuilly looked quietly pleased at being compared to Hephaestus and Enjolras didn’t miss the way he looked cautiouslly proud of himself.

Enjolras wandered a bit more and the sight that greeted him made him stifle a laugh. Valjean and Javert were looking at their pictures, seemed surprised to have been acknowledged at all and yet, arguing over it because Valjean seemed touched at being compared to Hestia; Javert, to anyone who knew him, looked proud of himself but, as always, he kept a neutral face and the banter with his spouse a continous affair. It fitted him, Enjolras guessed, to be compared to Themis, the goddess of divine order and natural law.

The blonde haired man studied with a broad smile the three presentations that merged into one. Bossuet described as _“Tyche - Goddess of fate and fortune”_ ; Jolly surrounded by medical books and teacups looked the personification of Asclepius, the god of medicine, rejuvenation, and health and, finally, Musichetta, radiant as she made her way around the Musain without being aware of the camera following her around – _Nine Muses._ That’s how Grantaire described her, and it was true, it was impossible to fit her in only one persona.

He reached the far end, where two walls on opposite sides separated to give access to a more private part of the gallery. To the left, there were three big pictures of Combeferre, books surrounding him in one of them, the next a deep look of concentration as he poured over their plans for the next protest and the last one a picture of him seating by a window, reading a well worn book _“Athena - Goddess of wisdom, poetry, and war strategy”._

The other one held the pictures of Courfeyrac. Portraits of the man smiling, playing with his three dogs and dancing at a street party. _“Hebe - Goddess of youth”._

He was standing there, studying the pictures of his friends when Cosette approached him, coming from the room on the far back, she looked beautiful as Cosette always did, but her smile was dancing with delight. “I think you should go and see that one, Enj.”

He frowned at her nonchalant tone but nodded anyway and went inside.

The atmosphere was different from rest of the gallery. For one, it wasn’t crowded and the noise seemed to dim. Second to that, the lights were not like the rest, instead of the usual illumination, the room was illuminated by a golden glow, it felt private and serene. Enjolras looked up then. Instead of the usual three pictures like everyone else’s, the room held nine. Right by the entrance of the room it was announced:

_“Apollo - God of music, arts, knowledge, healing, prophecy, poetry, manly beauty, and archery”_

The walls made an U shape. By the left, three pictures of him stared back – all of them taken during protests. Pictures taken at the same day, his expression. changing, turning from furious, to surprised until it reached the last one where he had a beaming smile, his shirt proudly printed with “Some people are gay, get over it!” – May 18th, 2013. The day same sex marriage was legalized.

On the wall to the right, pictures he knew were from a riot about police brutality. The one on the far right had him staring down an armed cop in full gear, they were roughly the same height but the look in Enjolras’ eyes and the way his shoulders were set made him look way taller. The one on the left had him standing with a mask hiding his nose and mouth, his eyes held a fierce look and behind him a sea of people with posters and banners, in the same protest. The one in the middle had him standing on top of something, high above the crowd, behind him the Arc of the Triomphe, smoke was everywhere and one could see fire in some places, he had on a T-shirt, the Anarchism symbol big on the front, his head was high and he held up the French flag.

Enjolras’ breath was knocked out of him as he took in the sheer passion on the pictures, how they captured his feelings and expressions and the fury in his eyes. 

He finally looked to the wall in the middle and felt his heart warming at the pictures there. The one on the left was from the day they were at the museum, his eyes crinkled as he smiled, Grantaire had captured the moment that he had stood up on his tip toes to try and pretend to kiss the Antinous Statue right on the lips. He let his eyes wander to the picture on the other side and felt his smile soften even more. He had his hair up in a very messy bun and was glaring into his first coffee mug of the morning, he knew it must have been finals season once he took a good look to the amount of notes and text books on top of the counter he was leaning against.

At last, Enjolras looked to the one in the middle. It was bigger than the other ones, he was seated on the couch at Grantaire’s studio apartment – around him were many second hand books, he was clad with an old sweatshirt that was too big on him considering he had stolen it from Grantaire; he was laughing, his eyes twinkling and his hair in disarray. He couldn’t remember what they had been chatting about but he knew it was the morning they decided to try their chances with a relationship – it was the only picture of him that wasn’t in black and white, but in original colors, the room bathed in the early morning light.

He stood inside the room for a good couple of minutes, taking it all in until he finally turned around and left to go in search of Grantaire. He looked all over the gallery but couldn’t find his almost-a-boyfriend anywhere. “Courf, have you seen him?” He asked in a hurry and his friend looked at him with happy eyes.

“You seen it then?” He studied Enjolras face, his own expression softening as he took in the blonde’s frantic expression. “Out back, by the garden.”

Enjolras nodded and made his way there. He stopped at the back door and took in the black curls and the slouched posture Grantaire was sporting, his back turned to the gallery as a whole. Taking a breath, the blue eyed man stepped forward, stopping just a few inches behind his lover.

“Hey.” He started and found himself at a loss. “What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be inside?”

Grantaire huffed a laugh and turned so he could look at Enjolras properly. On that particular moment, Enjolras felt as if all the air had left his lungs. R looked beautiful. His curls were as messy as always and the red and green christmas lights were twinkling happily above him, illuminating his face. “Needed some air, it’s all.” The artist bit his lip and let his piercing blue eyes roam around until they finally stopped and looked into Enjolras’ own eyes. “What did you think?”

It was Enjolras’ turn to bite his lower lip, a nervous habit he only ever allowed Grantaire to see. “I think it’s amazing.” He settled on, adding after a couple of seconds. “All of it.”

Grantaire’s smile was soft and his eyes were downcast for a moment. In the end, Enjolras was the one to break the silence. “Grantaire, the pictures you took, you’re a great artist.” Because Grantaire wasn’t only a photographer, no, he was an artist. An artist that captured the essence of every single moment that he immortalized.

“It is quite easy when the models are as pretty as everyone inside.” The artist laughed and that made Enjolras frown. “Don’t frown, your face is going to freeze like that.”

“Be serious.” The leader rolled his eyes but there was a smile pulling at his lips that made Grantaire laugh. 

“You know me, Apollo – I am wild!” He laughed around the cigarette that was now dangling from his lips. His smile softened then, to something much more intimate. “I’m glad you liked it.”

The blonde man nodded and smiled a bit, stepping forward so he was side by side to the artist, both of them leaning over the railing and looking over the city lights. “There’s one thing, though. If all of us are gods or goddesses, which one of them are you?”

Grantaire seemed to find that a good reason to laugh; not a happy laugh, by all means. “Well, it’s not a self portrait exhibition” He must have felt the weight of Enjolras stare because he rolled his eyes. “If I have to choose a greek myth, I will. But I’m no divine being, Apollo, you should know that.” He smoked in silence for a couple of moments, seeming deep in thought. “Ah, I know. I choose Icarus.”

“Why?” 

“Don’t you know the myth?” He said and turned to look into Enjolras’ eyes. “I flew to close to the sun and now I’m melting from my wings.”

“Grantaire-“ Enjolras started but was interrupted.

“I’m sorry, Enj.” And that sentence was quite confusing because as far as Enjolras was concerned nothing bad had happened. “For what?” 

“This whole exhibition. I know it must be awkward for you, but I had all of this pictures of you – God, this sounds so creepy, but it’s true! And then Courfeyrac saw them when we got pissed the other night and I told him I wanted to show them to you but didn’t know how so he told me to put them on the exhibition, and once the gallery saw them they just wouldn’t let me not add them to the collection. I am so sorry I just- I wanted you to see yourself like I see you everyday, because I love you so much and you just-

He never finished his frantic rambling because Enjolras stepped forward and kissed him chastely. He kept kissing him until he felt a little bit of the tension leave Grantaire’s posture. “Don’t be sorry.” Grantaire looked dazed for a second so Enjolras kissed him some more. They kissed for a couple of moments until Enjolras leant back a little and stared into the taller man’s eyes. “Grantaire?” 

“Yes?” Their voices were low, almost as if they were whispering.

“I love you too.” Enjolras confessed for the first time and Grantaire looked frozen for a second, then his face broke into a big smile, his eyes twinkling. 

Before he could say something, they heard a loud and delighted laugh from a little girl down the street. It took them two minutes to realize it was because the snow had started to fall. Grantaire’s face was tilted upwards, his smile was big as he looked at the snowflakes that were falling upon them, making their coats and scarves wet. His face was illuminated by the shiny christmas’ lights and the little girl’s laugh was replaced by many others and the whispers of _“have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light; from now on our troubles will be out of sight”_ coming from somewhere.

Enjolras reached up so his hand was framing Grantaire’s cheek, making the taller man look at him once again. “Happy holidays, Grantaire.”

The artist smiled before leaning in for another kiss. “Happy holidays, Enj.”


End file.
